


I Make It Look Easy ('Cause It Is To Me)

by Fudgyokra



Series: Kinktober 2017 [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Humor, Kinktober 2017, M/M, just bros bein bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-17 00:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12353454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: “Would it kill you not to die all the time?”“You know what? Fuck you. As someone who has literally died before, I take offense to that.”





	I Make It Look Easy ('Cause It Is To Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Kinktober! (kinktober2017.tumblr.com/post/163962052261)
> 
> Day 12: Master/Slave | Tentacles | Hand-jobs*
> 
> I started out pretty vanilla, but I’m looking forward to filling future prompts. Which relationship should I do next?

 

 

Jason wasn’t especially good at video games, which pissed him off because he was never _not_ good at something. Sure, he didn’t have video games growing up, but that was beside the point, because right now Roy was kicking his ass at this one and it was beginning to make him crazy.

In fact, the more he got to know him, the more he realized that Roy was annoyingly good at a lot of things. Jason was a fast runner, for instance; faster than Dick and Tim despite being bigger than them both and always neck in neck with Damian, who resented the fact. Still, Roy beat him every time they raced.

Jason’s sharp-shooting was unparalleled. Not even Bruce was as good a marksman as he’d grown to be, and none of the other boys ever had hope of coming close. But Roy was _better_ , always hitting the bullseye like he was physically incapable of missing. Jason may never miss a shot, but Roy could do it from farther away. With his eyes closed.

The constant invalidation of his first-place mindset was getting under his skin for one thing, and Roy was an obnoxious gloater for another. When Jay’s character was flung off the screen for the fourth time that round, Roy snorted from where he sat, cross-legged on the floor beside him in Jay’s little safehouse of the month. In front of them, the old TV crackled with two-bit victory music that declared Roy the champion. Again.

“Dude,” Roy began, “would it kill you not to die all the time?” His grin was as horribly perfect as the rest of him, and Jason seethed.

Despite the fact, he mashed the button on his controller to start the next round. “You know what? Fuck you. As someone who has literally died before, I take offense to that.” He did not really take offense to that. Roy seemed to get it, anyway, because he laughed and threw a wiry arm around Jason’s broader shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll cut you a deal.” When he licked his lips suggestively, Jason rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to Roy’s uncouth advances, but he was still stringing him along before he accepted them—not because he didn’t want to, but because he was trying to prove that one thing he did have over Roy was patience. Of course, Roy proved him wrong on that front, too.

“I’ll bite,” Jason answered with what he hoped was a long-suffering sigh. He had to make himself look Roy in the eyes, and the way they crinkled at the corners did something to Jason’s chest that made him kind of want to punch him in the mouth.

“If you can last this whole round without dying,” Roy said, bringing him back into the present with a jolt that definitely did not go unnoticed, “I will give you what I promise will be the best handjob of your life.”

If patience wasn’t something at which he could best Roy, then maybe _this_ was. “Only if I get to return the favor,” he said, watching with satisfaction when Roy blinked wide eyes.

“Woah, really?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Kind of.”

“Shut up, Roy.”

“Game on, then?”

“Yeah.”

It was almost record-breaking how quickly Jason died this time. His character flew off the stage like a rag doll with a blast of color, and Roy was left to defend himself from the monstrous hoard on his own. As usual, he beat them with ease. That stupid victory music was now officially Jason’s least favorite song in the world.

For the first time in their developing friendship, Jason realized that things between them had become awkward. _Awkward_ was not really something Roy _did_ , and since Jason usually reverted to irony in the face of social pitfalls (self-deprecating humor wrapped up in a neat little bow of narcissism), he wasn’t exactly the one to make things better.

Roy drew one knee to his chest and rested his forearm on it. When he looked at Jay, he looked uncharacteristically pensive. “Hey, man, offer’s still on the table,” he said at length. When Jay avoided both the responsibility of answering and the beseeching gaze being aimed at him, Roy chuckled. “Fair enough. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Jason asked with a snort. He set his controller down and toed it toward the television, away from him. “I’m never playing this stupid game with you ever again, man.”

“Because you suck total ass at it?” Roy ventured, his usual cheeky smile back in place to make things seem normal again. Jason could still tell, somehow, that they weren’t.

“No, because you _don’t_ ,” Jason finally admitted. He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, seconds before he tossed it out in front of him in a frustrated gesture. “You’re so goddamned good at everything! You’re like Bruce’s stupid, perfect brat only _hot_. You can practically do anything.”

Roy (thankfully) did not comment on that, but Jay could tell from the flush obscuring the freckles on his face that he was about to say something that would make everything between them go haywire. His thoughts were stuck halfway between “Jesus, finally” and “abort mission,” but he knew he ought to accept the inevitable gracefully, at the very least. So, he squared his shoulders and cocked his head toward the other, watching him swipe a hand back to smooth his ponytail.

“Not totally true,” he admitted.

Jason took the bait. “Yeah, right. Name one thing you’re bad at.”

“Apparently, I use too much teeth when I give head,” Roy offered, raising an eyebrow at Jason’s loading screen expression. “And from the stories Dickie tells me, you’re super good at that or something.”

“You’re saying I’m better at…blowjobs.” It wasn’t a question, but Roy nodded.

“Apparently,” he repeated with a somewhat defeated huff. “I’m kinda jealous, actually.”

“Well,” Jason said carefully, weighing the yank of desire on one end with the reluctant voice of reason on the other, “if you show me ‘best handjob in the world,’ maybe I’ll teach you ‘best blowjob.’”

Roy’s grin was electric. Jason was surprised when he wasn’t jumped immediately and was instead greeted with the sight of Roy on all fours, crawling across the dingy gray carpet toward him with predatory eyes. “Deal,” he said, unnecessarily. Jay had gotten the picture long before then, and the other man’s hands were already in new places before he could even take another breath, so.

It felt pretty juvenile to be groping blindly at each other on the floor of the safehouse, but Roy was too busy proving he was also a fucking amazing kisser while Jay warred between plotting his death and trying, in vain, to outdo him. Just when he thought he might be about to tip the scale in his favor, Roy moved from his mouth to his jaw and got a hand around his cock so fast it made Jason jerk his hips. Past the embarrassment and Roy’s _stupid fucking perfect grin_ of victory, he managed to remind himself that there was at least one thing on this planet he was better at. One day he’d prove it, but for now, this was more than enough.

Roy wrestled him onto his back on the floor and spit into his hand gracelessly. While Jason laughed fondly, Roy dove for him again, encircling him in a firm grasp and moving so goddamn slow that Jason was about to kick him as revenge. It was hard to argue, though, when the other dipped low to suck a hickey onto his chest and then rose to capture his mouth again, shiny with spit and salty with the taste of Jason’s skin.

He alternated between being firm and slow to being loose and fast; this served to make Jason not only bothered but intensely frustrated, which he figured was what the other was going for when he gave a pleased hum at the twitch of his hips.

“I swear to god,” he muttered, wrapping a hand around the back of Roy’s neck, “if you don’t hurry up…”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Roy challenged, ghosting his lips across Jay’s again while he worked the head of his cock with what was finally a pleasing amount of grip and speed.

Jason’s eyes rolled back just as an embarrassing groan escaped. Roy seemed perfectly content to watch from above, settled squarely on his knees now to admire the view. Jason hated him a little bit for it. He peeked through one eye to see the man bent over him, loose ponytail falling over his shoulder, eyes bright and focused, tongue caught thoughtfully between his teeth as he jerked him with one hand and used the other to cup his balls.

“I’m about to kill you,” Jason breathed. His hands darted out to grip the other’s hips with what he imagined was bruising force, but Roy only laughed, and _god_ it was just as breathless as his own voice and— “ _Fuck_ , Roy.” Past the thrill shooting up his spine, he barely registered the sensation of his head hitting the carpet when he threw his head back.

“Jay, baby,” Roy cooed, “I’ve been trying to get you to say my name like that for weeks now.”

“Shut up,” Jason hissed, feeling the telltale creep of color across his face.

“I mean, Jesus,” the other went on, trailing one hand up Jay’s chest. “You’re a pretty little thing, you know?”

“I _will_ hurt you,” Jason shot back, but the sheer force it took for him to pant out the words kind of disassembled the levels of threat it was supposed to have.

“I’m super jealous Dick got to you first,” he said, ignoring him. “I can only imagine how nice that filthy mouth of yours would look wrapped around—”

“Roy,” Jay gasped out in warning, catching him by the wrist and encouraging him to move _faster, harder, dammit_.

Roy blew out a heated breath and dragged one hand underneath him, getting a handful of his ass and jerking him closer until he was practically riding in his lap, jerking hips up in need.

It occurred to him, then, that he could get used to this. What he was certifiably _not_ used to was Roy prodding at him with two fingers, like he intended to finger-fuck him dry right there on the damn carpet. Jay growled out something that started as Roy’s name and ended up being more of a strangled noise, and by then Roy had him pinned down by one hip while he finished him off.

After he’d made a mess of his t-shirt and of Roy’s hand, Jason finally took a breath and remembered where he was. “Okay,” he panted, “I’ll admit, you’re pretty good at that.”

“I think it’s just because you’re hot for me, Jaybird,” Roy quipped, looking like he’d just won the lottery, even when Jason glared up at him in retort. “But, I mean, you’re not the first to say so.”

Jason kind of wanted to be the last. “I can tell,” he admitted, squeezing his thighs around Roy’s waist and delighting in the immediate flush that spread all the way down the other’s neck.

“About returning that favor…”

“All right,” Jason said, perhaps a little too eagerly, “get on the couch.”

Roy certainly wasn’t going to argue with that.


End file.
